The Broken Road
by The Scratch Man
Summary: The road to recovery is not a pretty one. 3rd installment of the Lovestrong series. Sequel to Five Ways Back. Angst, mild slash, AU, slight OOC.
1. Standing At the Beginning of the Bridge

**Disclaimer: I am a poor teenager who owns nothing but her laptop and her ideas. And fingers. And okay, hair, too. And possibly her brain, but she thinks that it's possible that aliens are the ones who really own it.**

**A/N: I'm back! And with the Lovestrong series sequel. If you are reading this without having first read 'Lovestrong' and 'Back', I advise you to read them, because otherwise, all of this AU-ness won't make much sense. **

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><p>Silence.<p>

It was a form of shelter, Robert Drake decided as he opened the door to his apartment. Silence could keep you safe and it could keep you hidden.

Not that he was _hiding_, per se. Bobby was just keeping a low profile.

He closed the door behind him and turned on the lights.

A year had passes since his release from SHIELD. After he had left the mansion, Bobby had moved up to Montreal and had quietly slipped off SHIELD's radar. He stopped taking his medication, but he was fine, aside from occasional panic attacks.

Bobby dropped his coat onto the arm of the couch, and went into the kitchen, running a hand through his hair and ruffling it up. He flicked on the kitchen light and opened the refrigerator in search for some dinner.

It was nearly midnight, but Bobby had just returned from work. It had been a long night at the restaurant where he worked.

One might think that he had been downgraded from his previous job. Where he was once an Accountancy teacher in New York, he was now a waiter at a fancy hotel restaurant in Montreal. The two positions had nothing in common, but Bobby really liked the restaurant and waiting on the rich customers there, and the pay was pretty good.

Tomorrow he would meet new people and nothing except the menu would be the same as today.

…

There were two things that Jean-Paul decided he did not like: Sluts, and bisexual boyfriends. He especially did not like bisexual boyfriends who cheated with sluts.

He sighed as he fell back on his bed.

It seemed that his luck with men was horrible. As usual.

There was a knock on his door, even though it was so late.

"I thought I said not to talk to me, Christian!" Jean-Paul snapped without moving to go to the door. There was a silence and then he heard someone say softly, "It's not Christian."

He was at the door in a second.

Jubilee looked up at him as he opened the door. "I heard you guys fighting outside. Christian is a total douchebag." She said.

Jean-Paul snorted in agreement and leaned against the doorway.

"Is there anything I can do?" She wondered.

He shook his head.

"You should take a break." She suggested. "Like, go on vacation and have some fun."

"That actually sounds like a very good idea." He said with a sigh.

"Totally. Think about it, JP. 'Night."

Jean-Paul closed the door and blinked thoughtfully as he went back to bed.

He woke up to someone banging loudly on his door. He checked the alarm clock next to his bed. 4:45 AM.

"Jean-Paul! Come on! Mission –be in the hangar in ten minutes!" someone yelled. It was too early for him to try and place who it was.

He groaned and sat up. Perhaps being taken off the active roster hadn't been that bad. Still, early morning missions weren't that frequent, so it had to be something important.

He was walking into the X-Hangar nine minutes later.

Scott, Kurt, Rogue, Piotr, Hisako, and Gambit were the only people there. They did not make up any roster that he could think of. Jean-Paul frowned, "What is this?"

"We're goin' tah Canada, sugah." Rogue informed him as they walked up the ramp into the Blackbird.

"Why? They have teams, too." Jean-Paul said.

"Foreign relations time."

"_What_?"

"You're going to be the peace-keeper for once. We have to meet with a few other teams, and Scott wants to make it face-to-face." Hisako explained.

"So he picked X-Men who were more noticeably diverse than the others?" Jean-Paul muttered dryly, "Is this some sort of strategy that will make us look better in front of the others?"

"Eh, probably." The young woman replied with a yawn.

A few hours later, they were landing in Montreal.

"What's the buzz about?" Bobby wondered as he walked into the restaurant before opening time.

Claudine, one of his coworkers told him excitedly in faintly accented English, "We heard that there is going to be superhero teams from all over meeting in the city. Some from America, too!"

"What team?" Bobby froze.

"Ah… I am not sure," She turned to Emilie, another waitress, "_Emilie, ce qui est equipe de superheros recontre avec Alpha Flight_?" she called.

Bobby's breath hitched in his throat and he began to feel queasy.

"J_e pense_… uh, Avengers?" The petite brunette replied.

"What she said." Claudine told Bobby, "the Avengers."

He let out a small sigh of relief. Then he nodded enthusiastically, "Cool! Who's your favorite Avenger?"

The day began to progress as normal. By lunch, the restaurant was really beginning to fill up. Bobby was just on his way to the kitchen with an order when a waiter named Robbie rushed into the kitchen. "There's a superhero here!" He announced breathlessly.

The staff went into a frenzy; French, English, and Franglish were being shouted all about. The manager suddenly appeared in the doorway and yelled for everyone to be quiet and to remain calm. "This is not the first time we have had a celebrity among us." He reminded them as he ordered them all to get back to work.

"Who is it, Robbie?" a waitress named Nathalie inquired.

"An X-Men, I think. He was wearing the 'X' on his belt." He replied.

Cold dread flooded through Bobby. Then the shortness of breath came.

Someone shook his shoulder. It was Claudine. She frowned, her eyebrows knitting together. "Are you feeling alright, Bobby?" she asked. "We are required to help outside."

"No," he choked out, "I think I'm gonna be sick."

"Rogue," Jean-Paul hissed across the table, "Stop glaring at the staff."

"Welcome," The manager of the restaurant, a short man with a receding hairline had come to greet them himself.

"Wine." Jean-Paul interrupted him as he launched into a speech. "In the bottle. It does not matter which brand."

The man's face fell, but then he smiled. "Of course, Mr. Beaubier." He turned toward a young blonde waitress who had just scurried out of the kitchens and had her bring their finest. Then, he let them alone in the private room they had ordered.

"Screw Summers." Rogue said, downing her first glass in two gulps. "I hate these super-hero conventions."

"Dey aren't dat bad," Gambit said.

"Says you. There's a bunch o' ladies in skin-tight costumes walkin' around with their" –Jean-Paul coughed loudly – "practically hangin' out an' askin' tah be"

"-Aw, _cheri_, you know you da only one fo' me," Gambit said.

"Oh yeah, sugah?" She challenged. "Then what about that dumb blonde from-?"

Jean-Paul's cell phone rang shrilly from his pocket. He checked the screen and stood up. "I'll be back," His comment was lost over the sound of Gambit and Rogue arguing on what counted as checking someone out.

He took the call in the alley behind the restaurant. It turned out to be Scott, wanting to know when he, Rogue, and Gambit were. (They had snuck out of the meeting when the others were shaking hands with other teams)

After assuring Scott that they would hurry back (but not disclosing a location in case Kurt was sent for them), Jean-Paul closed his cellphone and stowed it back in his pocket. He turned to go back into the building just as the kitchen door opened.

An employee stepped out, telling someone inside, "Yeah, thanks." The door closed and he turned around.

Bobby and Jean-Paul stared at each other for a long time, eyes wide.

Then the hyperventilating started. Bobby leaned against the wall, trying to catch his breath. "Oh my God. Oh my fucking God." He said.

"Robert? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, asshole, just freaking out –Oh God." And then he fainted.

…

* * *

><p>"Gah!" Bobby sat straight up with a gasp. He looked around and began to panic before recognizing the living room of his three-room apartment. He sat up slowly and peered around the unlit room. How did he get there? Who brought him-?<p>

"Jean-Paul?" He whispered.

There was no answer, so he stood up and walked through the entire place. No one there. He was alone.

Bobby crept through the apartment once more, checking drawers, opening closets, all the while not quite sure what he was looking for.

The bathroom ended up providing answers; stuck to the mirror was a piece of paper which read 'CALL THE X-MEN IF YOU NEED HELP'.

_Yeah right_, he'd call. As if.

Bobby snorted and dropped the paper in the toilet, flushing it away.


	2. Looking Over the Edge

**A/N: Chappie two!**

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><p>"You okay, JP?" Jubilee asked.<p>

Jean-Paul blinked, "_Oui_. Yes. Of course."

She frowned, still concerned, "You sure? You've kind of been spaced out since that trip to Montreal…"

"I am fine."

"Yeah, sure. Something happen in Canada?"

Jean-Paul didn't answer.

"Something happened in Canada." Jubilee concluded.

"It is not your concern."

"Bull." She said immediately. "What happened?"

"Jean-Paul." Came a voice from the doorway of the Rec Room.

They both looked over to see Logan leaning against the doorway.

"Let's talk." Logan said expressionlessly. "Jubilee? Excuse us."

"But" She started in protest.

"Excuse us."

Jubilee got up and stomped out of the room.

Jean-Paul sat frozen on the couch. He knew he'd been found out. "Don't tell." He said quietly.

"So he lives in Montreal?" Logan grunted.

"I didn't know." Jean-Paul insisted. "He was working at the restaurant we went to."

"Did ya know that S.H.I.E.L.D's lost track of him?" Logan said. "He slipped through surveillance ten months ago."

"Logan, he's not balanced. S.H.I.E.L.D cannot find him. He fainted when he saw _me_. He'll break down if he's found again."

"So?"

"No one will ever know. It will be like nothing happened."

Logan nodded slowly. "Ya know, Drake was a good kid. Good actor, too, 'parrently."

…

Bobby briefly wondered whether he should put the cell phone down and go to bed. It was two weeks since That Day and he may and may not be drunk.

Whatever, he inebriated brain said.

He went ahead and dialed anyway.

The phone was picked up on the second ring.

"Hello?"

"Hi. Okay. Don't hang up. Please." Bobby said. He wasn't sure if he was even being coherent. There was a chance that all that was coming out of his mouth was a bunch of slurred, mumbled words. "Heh. Yeah. I'm drunk. Can you tell? Eh. You always know what's up with me. It's so weird. It's like you're always in my head. Ugh. So um. I'm drunk. So I think it's a good excuse for me to tell you why. Heh. Why what? Why I did it. Why I did it all. You know, it's been almost three –no, two years since. I just thought. Maybe. I'm sorry. I am. Heh, look, I'm such a wreck. I'm sorry. For everything, you know. First person I fell in love with. Lorna. Well, you know this story. It didn't work out. I didn't work out. Remember our first date, though? October tenth. Almost four years ago. Don't count that time with the empath. I fell in love with you." Bobby laughed. "God, Jean-Paul, why did you have to do that to me? I didn't want to fall in love again. And you were so happy. I'm addicted to happiness, did you know? And then, it's just so twisted. You were so happy, and there was this voice in the back of my head and I began to think… why couldn't you ever feel like I did? Because despite all the _shit_ you've been through… no one's ever broken your heart. You have to know I didn't want to. But that voice. _Bobby, Bobby, look how happy he looks. Why not let him see what it feels like to have it all end? Bobby, Bobby, look…_ and you know. I found the most lonely looking girl at the bar. But that doesn't justify anything. I did love you. Christ, why am I so fucked up? Why couldn't I just. Why couldn't I just let myself be happy for once? So I'm sorry, Jean-Paul. And you know where I am. So Logan probably knows you know, since you were here. And maybe Emma knows. Maybe everyone knows. I just wanted to call. Shit, I can't even remember if I ever actually dialed you. Are you even listening right now? So I'm going to hang up now. Montreal is really beautiful, but you know. I feel like I have to leave. So bye."

…

The call ended and the dial tone started up once more.

Jean-Paul threw his cell phone across the room, where is smashed against the wall.

With a swipe, all the possessions on his desk went flying off onto the ground. Glass shattered. The lamp crashed and went out, sending the room into darkness.

He kicked his chair over and the leg broke.

Jean-Paul dropped onto the edge of this bed and cupped his face in his hands.


	3. The First Step Forward

**Chapter 3 :)**

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><p>"In other news, the mutant superhero known as <em>Iceman<em>, who hasn't been seen on any news coverage for the past two years, was recently arrested by Department H, a branch of Canada's national defense. He was then handed over to Strategic Hazard Intervention Espionage Logistics Directorate, also known as S.H.I.E.L.D. They released a statement shortly after news of Iceman's arrest was leaked to the press, saying that he has been emotionally and mentally unstable in the past years and as an Omega-level mutant, is required –by S.H.I.E.L.D protocol to be detained and monitored. The X-Men, of whom Iceman is an original member, plan to have a short press conference at three PM today. Iceman, age twenty-six, was taken to a hospital in Montreal by a coworker at the restaurant he worked at after suffering from a seizure. A hospital employee recognized Iceman and called authorities for instructions."

…

"What the _hell_?"

"-What's happened?"

"-National news, Scott, _national news_!"

"-Can't believe you let this get out of hand!"

"-and in Canada? What was he even doing there-?"

"-What the _hell_, Scott!"

Scott's office was filled with other X-Men –friends of Bobby's –who were yelling and shouting over each other before Jean-Paul even opened the door.

"EVERYONE. SHUT UP. GET OUT, NOW."

"Hold on"

"-just what do you think-?"

"-Aw, no way"

"-tell me"

"-come on, Scott"

"I will explain everything soon. There'll be a meeting. Ten minutes, okay? _Ten minutes_." Scott said through his teeth, "In the meanwhile, _get out_."

They all headed toward the door, grumbling unhappily.

"Except you, Jean-Paul." Scott added.

The Quebecois paused in the doorway and leaned against the wall as everyone else filed on out. "_Oui_?

"They're not going to let Bobby out for a while," Scott said, crossing his arms and sighing, "They psychoanalyzed him after he turned himself in. He's paranoid, mildly schizophrenic, and has a manic-depressive and bipolar disorder."

Jean-Paul winced ever so slightly. "What does this have to do with me?"

Scott stared at him for a moment. Even with his glasses, which usually masked his expression, Jean-Paul could tell he was incredulous. "Well, nothing, I suppose. I just thought…" He trailed off, "Never mind. Was there something you came here for, then?"

"Actually, I was wondering what you will be saying at the press conference." Jean-Paul said.

Scott shrugged, "The usual supportive, yet vague, circumlocution answers. By the way," he added as Jean-Paul started to leave, "Friends are allowed to visit Bobby starting next week."

"Wonderful," He replied flatly.

XXXX

"Eliza," Bobby said in mock cheeriness. "Wonderful to see you again. I see you've been promoted. No longer just a _prison guard_?"

She crossed her arms, watching from behind the glass on the observation deck.

A nurse came into the room, handing him his medication.

Bobby glared at the pills without taking them.

"The sooner you do as you're told, the sooner you'll get better," The nurse urged him.

"I _am_ better." He sneered, "You're just trying to lock me up and make me worse again."

"Take your medicine." Eliza sighed.

XXXX

"Oh what are _you_ doing here?" Bobby said, glancing up from his bed where he sat reading a book.

"The last time you _called_." Jean-Paul hissed. "Were you telling the truth, or were you just making it all up?" He stood at the foot of Bobby's bed, arms cross tightly, looking tired and on an edge.

"I was probably lying." Bobby said flatly, looking back at his book. "I seem to be doing that a lot."

"_Robert_." Jean-Paul said. He hated how _broken_ his voice sounded. "I'm not happy, alright? I haven't been happy for nearly three years. Your plan worked. That little _voice_ in your head? It's ruined me. I hope this _satisfies_ you in some sick way."

Bobby seemed to freeze. The color left his face and he looked up again very, very slowly. There was a look in his eyes, something like apprehension? Or maybe sadness? Maybe a mixture of both. He frowned, eyebrows pushing together as he did so. "I…" He trails off and then turns away.

…

"Hey," Jubilee looked tired as he slips into a seat at the table. "I visited Bobby this morning."

Jean-Paul made a point not to look up from his plate. "Oh?"

"Yeah. He started doing the swaying in the middle of the room with this eyes closed thing again." Jubilee said. "Apparently he does it every Thursday, at two o'clock. They're adding obsessive compulsive to the list."

"Can we not talk about this?" Jean-Paul said quietly with a sigh.

"'Course. But he gave me this, when I went to see him today. It's for you. I didn't read it." She passed an envelope over the table.

He put it in his pocket and when he got back to his room after dinner, put on his desk and didn't open it.

He stared at it for an hour before scoffing at how ridiculous he was being and going ahead and opening it.

He took out a single, folded photograph with trembling fingers. It took him two attempts to unfold it.

He recognized the photograph immediately. It's him and Bobby. They're in the swimming pool and grinning. Bobby's arm is hanging casually off Jean-Paul's shoulders.

He turned over the picture slowly.

Bobby wrote something on the back:

_Jean-Paul—_

_You know how I always seem to hate you? I don't. I hate myself. Every time I see you, I just remember how badly I fucked up. It's all a pile of lies. I know this passive-aggressive shit I keep doing must be giving you a headache. Sorry. I have trouble thinking my actions through. It's –as my 'therapist' likes to say 'compulsive' lying. In other words, I make up dramatic stuff to do. It's been weeks. You know, I remember what I said –the last time I called. I wasn't lying that time. _

_I'm sorry, and I hope you'll forgive me someday…? _

_If not, I deserve it._

_So yeah. This is my apology, I guess. It's ridiculously long overdue. _

_-Bobby_

Jean-Paul stared at the writing for a long time. A _long_ time. He clenched his fists angrily, then went over and lied back on his bed, exhausted. As he drifted off to sleep, a part of him wondered whether it was even worth feeling anything about all of this anymore.

He didn't know, wasn't sure.

When it came to Bobby, it was all confusion. He longed for the days when it wasn't.


	4. A Hesitation

"Hi," Bobby said quietly.

Jean-Paul stood in what seemed like a familiar spot; a few feet away from where Bobby sat on his bed. The photograph Bobby had sent to him three days ago was currently folded in his pocket.

"It's uh, been a crazy few years, huh?"

"That is quite the understatement." Jean-Paul says.

"My fault."

"Yes." Jean-Paul said, "But also mine. I should've seen that there wasn't something right."

"I've made a mess of my life." Bobby mused, fidgeting with the fabric of his sweatpants. "Makes me wonder… if I'll ever be the good guy again."

Jean-Paul took a slow step forward.

A hesitant step; a cautious step.

He sat down next to Bobby. Their sides were almost touching.

He reached into his pocket and took out the photo and pressed it against Bobby's palm. "Look." He traced the line of photo-Bobby's smile. "You look like the good guy, _oui_?"

Bobby stared at the picture. He looked away.

"Robert," Jean-Paul said, "You are still a good person. You are not evil. But you have made mistakes. We all do that."

"Some mistakes are worse than others."

"Logan is not a villain." Jean-Paul pointed out.

They sat in silence for a long time.

"I should get going."

"Okay," Bobby said quietly.

Jean-Paul left.

Bobby clenched his fist.

…

Jean-Paul visited again after a shorter time than usual.

"It's called Borderline." Bobby said from where he swayed in the middle of the room with his eyes closed. "I'm emotionally extreme."

"I thought you were taking something for the OCD." Jean-Paul frowned.

"I'm taking a lot of things right now," Bobby snorted. "I'm surprised I'm not a mess in a hospital bed. Besides, maybe this isn't a compulsion anymore. Maybe it's a ritual."

"Dancing with an imaginary person?" Jean-Paul raised his eyebrows.

"Then you dance with me," Bobby shrugged.

"I did that one to myself, didn't I?" Jean-Paul sighed.

Bobby reached out and pulled him over, taking one of Jean-Paul's hands in his own and placing his other on his waist.

Bobby's hands were cold. He laced his fingers into the spaces between Jean-Paul's and the Quebecois felt a sharp pang of _something_ in his chest. He lightly rested one of his hands on Bobby's shoulder.

Thank God Bobby kept his eyes closed. They were so close Jean-Paul feared that he might lose all thought and just _shatter_ if he could see into Bobby's eyes.

Bobby hummed tunelessly under his breath and a shadow of a smile flirted across his lips. Was he aware that he had stepped closer?

Jean-Paul stared at him, breath hitching a little. He couldn't do this. What was this? They weren't even doing anything. But he couldn't, he just—

He stepped back, dropping his hand from Bobby's shoulder.

Bobby's eyes snapped open. There was a look there. Again, Jean-Paul couldn't read it. He used to be able to read Bobby like an open book.

Their arms were outstretched, fingers still touching.

Bobby let go.

Jean-Paul said something about just remembering so-and-so. He was gone in a moment, fleeing the facility, heart racing, thoughts jumbled.

…

"Jean-Paul!" Jubilee yelled, banging on the door, "What the hell did you do?"

He opened the door immediately and hissed for her to be quiet, "What are you talking about?" He said.

She grinned, "Bobby's doing great!"

His brow furrowed, "What are you talking about?" he repeated with a frown.

"I mean, I talked to the SHIELD guys and they said that after you left last time, Bobby started going full-cooperation. He started to talk to the therapists and he took all of his pills…He's been asking about when he can leave and wants to talk to Scott about coming back…"

Jean-Paul stared at her, confusion increasing with every word. "What?"

"Did you like talk to him last time?"

"No. We just…" He shook his head, "I haven't been to see him for weeks."

"Yeah, also, what's up with that?"

"I've been busy." He replied snippily.

"Sure," She rolled her eyes, and then resumed her earlier excitement, "You know how great this is though? He could be outta there in a couple of months! Weeks, even!"

…

"So," Rogue leaned against the doorway of the classroom, glancing over her shoulder to watch the last kid walk down the hall. "Somethin' happen to yuh?"

Jean-Paul regarded her wearily as he sat down at his desk, "What do you mean?"

"I mean the fact that when I went tah visit Bobby today, he asked where yuh were and said he hadn't seen yuh for months." She raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms, "Come on, where's your mind, JP? Remy mentioned the other day that you're lapsing into your bad sleeping habits again. _Again_, Jean-Paul. So I know this has somethin' tah do with Bobby. Spill."

Jean-Paul stared at her for a moment. He shook his head slowly, "I don't know if I can do this." He said finally, "If he comes back, I don't know how I'll handle it. We're this –this _mess_, Rogue. I don't know how to fix it. You've seen me all these years._ I've_ been a mess. He's the only one who does this to me." He finished in a whisper.

Rogue closed the door and walked over to the desk, kneeling across from him and resting her chin in her hands on the desk. "'Cause yuh love him." She said.

"I don't" –Jean-Paul cut himself off and swallowed staring at a spot in front of him and pressing his knuckles to his mouth. "Don't say things like that," He whispered. "Christ, don't _say_ things like that."

"Jean-Paul." Rogue said.

"Rogue." He responded. They stared at each other long and hard. His chair scraped against the floor as he stood up. "This conversation has gone far enough. He gathered up his things from his desk, "I will see you tomorrow, _oui_?"

Rogue huffed a sigh as she watched him leave the classroom. "This ain't gonna be pretty." She decided to herself.


	5. Carry On Forward

**A/N: So I know it's been over three months since I last updated… I'm really trying to get back into writing fanfic. It's just tumblr. Guh. So distracting. Anyway, I hope I haven't lost my touch. :s**

**There will probably be one or two more chapters to this series and then TSM will be a free elf. **

* * *

><p>Jean-Paul had to force himself out of the mansion before he changed his mind. It was morning when he slipped out quietly. He skipped public transport and flew directly to the SHIELD facility.<p>

The visitation hours had just begun when he arrived. The agent at the cell looked surprised. Eliza was nowhere in sight. Jean-Paul was glad, thinking that he wouldn't be able to take the way she would no doubt look knowingly at him before allowing him entrance.

The buzzer sounded, signaling to all that someone was about to enter Bobby's cell.

Jean-Paul walked inside and looked around.

Bobby appeared suddenly at the doorway of his bathroom, the only area of the containment cell that didn't have clear walls or monitoring. His eyebrows shot up the moment he registered just who it was who had come to visit.

"Get out of town!" Bobby suddenly exclaimed, a fast smile spreading across his face.

Jean-Paul frowned, confused by the warm welcoming.

"I thought you wouldn't come by again. Everyone says you've been stupidly busy."

Ah. The others had been covering for him.

"I have been… rather occupied." Jean-Paul said quietly.

Bobby paused and scrutinized Jean-Paul's face. His smile faded. "You should've slept in. You look terrible."

"Oh, thanks," he snorted.

"Honestly. You've got bags under your eyes. You hate having bags under your eyes."

Jean-Paul shrugged.

Bobby found it a good idea to let the subject go for the moment. "So…" he sat down at the edge of his bed, "I'll probably be out of here by summer."

"I heard you were talking to Scott about coming back to the mansion."

"Well, maybe. I don't actually have an authentic Canadian citizenship." Bobby said matter-of-factly. "What do you think?"

"Why the sudden change of heart?" Jean-Paul blurt out instead of something polite and encouraging.

Bobby made a face, "Whatever do you mean?"

"Taking all your meds. No resistance." Jean-Paul said. He crossed his arms, "It's hard to believe, considering how agitated you've always acted here before."

"I'm not agitated anymore."

"So you've accepted your surroundings."

"And my previous actions. All my fault."

"Right."

"You don't believe me?"

"I have no reason to. You could begin acting out as soon as you walk out of this facility." Jean-Paul declared.

"Well maybe I don't want to spend the rest of my fucking life in a damn cell!" Bobby snapped, expression darkening. "It's a pain in the ass to live here! I hate it! You all fucking sent me to _prison_." He took a deep breath and unclenched his hands, which had curled into fists. "I hate it." He said again. "I want out."

…

Late July found Bobby stepping out of the SHIELD facility escorted by Eliza and a SHIELD psychiatrist. He squinted in the sunlight and grinned as he saw a group consisting of Scott, Rogue, Hank and Jubilee waiting by one of the X-Vans. He said his goodbyes to the SHIELD employees with utmost cheerfulness and went to join the X-Men.

…

Jean-Paul could hear the group returning from the SHIELD facility. There was a sudden disruption on the first floor and the sound of many people talking at once really loudly.

The Quebecois' grip tightened on his pen until there was an unfortunate ink-splot on one of his students' essay.

It was petty, he told himself, to not come out of his room and greet Bobby. After all, they weren't on bad terms anymore, and he had just visited Bobby a couple of days before his release. Bobby had been excitable then –cheery and joking around. Jean-Paul found it almost painful to watch.

He snorted to himself. Now _he_ was the one developing the 'problems'. Christ.

There was a sharp knock on his room door that had Jean-Paul blanching. But no, he could still hear Bobby laughing down the stairs, so he rose and took his time getting to the door. The moment he turned the knob, he who was on the other side of the door threw it open and grabbed hold of Jean-Paul's arms.

"Hey there, sugah," Rogue sang, slinging an arm around his neck in a tight hold.

Remy flanked Jean-Paul's other side, clearly Rogue's back-up and accomplice in whatever shenanigans she had in mind.

"Yuh hidin' from somethin'? Or just gradin' papers as usual?" Rogue asked, and Jean-Paul scowled, knowing he was caught no matter what.

"Please, Rogue, I don't"

"-No." she interrupted firmly, "It's time to face your fears. Once an' for all."

"Gambit, I insist-" Jean-Paul turned to Remy, but he shook his head resolutely, "Ain't seen y' smile fo' a long time, _homme. _Least y' can do is fix de problem, an' dat would be your relationship wit' one fresh-outta-containment Bobby Drake." The Cajun said.

And with that, they marched Jean-Paul down the hall, and down the stairs. Now, all were perfectly aware that if the speedster wanted out, he'd be _out_. So Jean-Paul mused that he was clearly a masochist for going along with all of it. Yet… he _wanted_ to see Bobby, wanted to make it right, hoped for a look in Bobby's eyes that would tell him that finally –_it's alright_.

He was escorted into the front hall, which the welcoming party had just vacated, and curious students watched as Jean-Paul strolled toward the Recreation Room, where Bobby and the others had gathered for rambunctious chatter.

"Go on before me." Jean-Paul said quietly as they approached the Rec Room. "I'll follow in a moment, honestly," he added. "I just need to gather myself."

"It'll be good for yuh," Rogue told him before she and Remy entered the room. There was a renewed chorus of delighted shouting as they were welcomed into the crowd and Jean-Paul took a deep breath from where he stood against the wall.

He could expect a happy Bobby, no doubt. Would it be the false-happy he knew Bobby kept up for pretenses? Would Bobby's face darken or brighten when he spotted Jean-Paul, or would he pretend not to notice?

"It's a bit much," a voice commented from the doorway at the other end of the hall.

Jean-Paul's head snapped up and he didn't know his eyes were searching for Bobby's until he found them; light blue and tired beneath layers of serenity. And Jean-Paul's breath caught in his chest for a moment and _dammit _Rogue was right –she was always right –this was love warming his heart if he ever felt it.

"Robert," Jean-Paul exclaimed softly, "I thought you were in the Recreation Room."

Bobby shrugged, "It got a bit too crowded, I needed some air."

Silence drifted between them. Jean-Paul looked for something to say. Thoughts sped through his mind like bullets. He wanted to say so much, and at the same time, didn't want to have to say anything.

He settled; "Welcome home," he said. He'd meant to say 'Welcome back', as so many others had been saying, but in his mind the mansion was Bobby's home –had _always_ been, even before it was Jean-Paul's and countless others'.

The grin that ignited on Bobby's face was unexpected and genuine. "Hey, you know what they say. There's no place like home."

"No. I suppose not."

"Hey, Bobby!" A voice called out from the Rec Room, "You out there, buddy?"

"Well, that's my cue," Bobby said, giving a two-fingered salute, "Better Ollie on out. Or in, I guess. See you later?"

"_Oui_, of course." Jean-Paul replied.

"And Jean-Paul?" Bobby stopped him, touching a hand gently to his arm. "I never said, but… thanks for visiting me these past years. I might've acted like an ungrateful bastard, but it means a lot to me now, and heh, I guess whether you intended to be or not, you've always been there for me. I mean, not to try and sound really fake or like," He begin to ramble, as Jean-Paul fondly recalled that he was wont to do, and the Quebecois found himself smiling.

"Bobby?" he said, "I understand. It is alright."

"Right. It's alright. Yeah. Okay. Catch you later then. Heh. See ya." Bobby quickly backed away and rubbed the back of his neck before scampering away like a nervous teenager.

Jean-Paul shook his head and brushed his fingers over his arm where Bobby's hand had been. He heaved and deep breath, closed his eyes, and finally let go of all the tension cramping his muscles.

It was not quite over yet, but for the time being, all was well.


	6. Making it to Even Ground

**A/N: I am a horrible person and I have become That fanfic writer who doesn't update anymore. I'm so dreadfully sorry! Anyway, here's the last chapter of the Lovestrong series. I'll be dumping it all on my Ao3 next, but a _huge_ thanks to anyone who's been reading my stuff! :)**

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><p><em>Epilogue<em>:

To say the past couple of years had been hell would be an understatement. They were horrendous and heart-wrenching and –and… Given a choice, Jean-Paul would love to have them wiped from his mind forever. For months he'd lived under the constant worry and stress with Bobby in his every thought, even when he tried so hard to just _forget_.

And here they all were, three years from the day it all began –reunited.

Bobby spent his days cheerfully getting back into the routine of life at the X-Mansion, and after a couple of days, and a loud telling-off by the man himself, people stopped tip-toeing around Bobby, stopped acting like he was a fragile ice statue to be handled with care.

In the weeks that followed his return, life slowly began to return to normal –or as normal as it could get. Bobby wasn't allowed on any missions until nearly a year after his release from the SHIELD containment facility, and even then, he was placed on the reserve team.

But all in all? He was okay with that.

For a while, there was a constant reminder of what he had done. Every morning and evening someone would meet him at breakfast or dinner with a small cup of prescribed pills. Often times it was Hank or Scott who made sure he was properly medicated, but during times where they were on missions or dealing with other affairs, the New X-Men stepped forward.

Bobby was surprised to find that they had grown in his absence and that his former students had graduated from their high school studies. He shouldn't have been (surprised, that is) –that was what people did… they grew up, moved on, fell in love, got married, had two and a half kids…

Well, maybe not in this line of work. But someone was bound to have kids eventually. The X-Men were reaching that point, it seemed.

It was the things that Bobby missed that caused him regret, and yet his regret was often short-lived, as he had since acknowledged that his meltdown was inevitable.

With that in mind, Bobby passed through life with a weight lifted off of his chest. At first, it had been hard, living in that mansion where so much had gone _wrong_, and he was glad Polaris and Havok had recently gone on a long-term mission on the west coast. Perhaps, one day, he would be able to handle meeting Lorna's eye –but that day was yet to come.

In the meantime, Bobby was so occupied with getting a handle with his resettling into the X-Mansion that he barely had time to catch his breath. He was always doing something –beginning working in the Danger Room again, sliding back into the mindset of teaching students, reacquainting with other X-Men…Until five months in when Bobby stopped suddenly, in the midst of hurrying down the hall, to realize that he had nowhere to hurry _to_. He had nothing on his schedule that day.

The fact hit him, left him reeling with surprise, and he just stood there, looking around with wide eyes. Then he frowned, turned on his heel and headed back down the hall, pace slower, almost to the point where he was wandering uncertainly around the mansion he'd known since he was a teenager.

"Where is everyone?" he wondered aloud as he drifted into the kitchen.

The refrigerator slammed shut and a student looked up guiltily. "Er," she said, "Day trip to the mall," and she unexpectedly vanished with that, leaving Bobby as puzzled as ever. He was still standing in the doorway when Jean-Paul strolled into the kitchen from the other side.

The French-Canadian glanced over, clearly expecting to see any other person. He stopped, raised his eyebrows and said, "Oh. Hello," before reaching up to the cupboards to retrieve a ceramic mug.

"Hi," Bobby said.

Jean-Paul put a kettle on boil and ruffled through the drawers for tea leaves. All the while, Bobby stood dumbly in his spot. While the water boiled, Jean-Paul turned to lean against the counter. "How have you been, Bobby?"

"Eh. Yeah. Good." He waved his hand around and shrugged. "You?"

"I've been doing well also." Jean-Paul informed. "Teaching. The occasional mission and broken bone. X-Men business as usual, I suppose."

Bobby blinked and then laughed, "I hear you," he said, nodding.

Jean-Paul smiled a little and turned to tend to the whistling kettle behind him. He gave a small wave to Bobby as he left moments later with a steaming cup of tea and in all of that time, Bobby did not move at all.

Seconds later, still staring around by himself, Bobby suddenly sprang into action, racing out of the kitchen before he really knew where he was going.

He caught up to Jean-Paul at the staircase. "Hey, Jean-Paul," he called, catching the speedster's attention.

"_Oui_?" he said, turning. The simple word made Bobby smile to himself –some things never changed.

"We haven't really talked." Bobby said. "I feel like I haven't seen you around lately."

"You _have_ been maintaining a rather busy regime," Jean-Paul pointed out.

Bobby sighed, "Yeah, I know, but I should still be able to find time out of my day to just say _hello_, and the fact that I haven't is kind of, well, shitty."

"Bobby, you needn't" Jean-Paul began to assure, but the ice mutant help up a hand.

"Look," he said, "Are you busy?"

Jean-Paul blinked. "No," he said with a frown, "I suppose not."

"Do you want to maybe, um, hang out sometime? I think I owe it to you to be in your company without being an utter asshole." Bobby gave a small, somewhat uncertain laugh and bit his lip, waiting for a reply.

"I…" Jean-Paul grasped for something to say. Part of him desperately wanted to say _yes_, while the other screamed in denial. He didn't know if he could trust himself to handle… But Bobby was doing so _well_ these days…

Suddenly, an alarm rang through the building. "Will all active X-Men still in the building report to the hangar?" Emma Frost's voice said into everyone's minds, "Actually, that's an order. We have a situation in New York."

Jean-Paul looked at Bobby helplessly, knowing he had to go. He set his tea down on a table in the hall and checked his watch. "Bobby, can we put a rain check on this conversation?" he asked the rather crestfallen man.

"Yeah, of course. Duty calls."

Jean-Paul paused, guilt washing through him, "Why don't we put a tentative date on this 'hang-out'? This weekend, say?" he said, and Bobby lit up.

"But not Sunday, I've got therapy that day!" Bobby called as Jean-Paul raced (sans powers) away.

Jean-Paul laughed, "_Mais oui_!"

And as he strapped into the Black Bird and Emma began briefing, he smiled to himself, knowing that while there was still a ways to go for them to truly understand what was still between them, they had found even ground, and time would heal any other wounds.


End file.
